Dear Diary
by Malthusia
Summary: Set 2.5 years after Bound For Hell. Things have not been easy on the Gundam pilots since the Mariemaia incident. Heero has gone missing. And Duo is beginning to pick up the pieces of his life. Adult themes including: suicide, self-injury, PTSD, Rape, and substance abuse. Heero x Duo. All other AC pairings stand.
1. Chapter 1

**Insert crazed maniacal laughter of a fangirl who likes tormenting characters and reflecting her own bitter soul, experiences and feelings onto them. So basically what I am trying to say that this is somewhat of a sequel to Bound For Hell, which if you haven't read I would totally go and find it in my library. It covers a lot of things that are described in this like suicide attempts, the assassination, and the school trip incident as I have taken to calling it. There is also Weapons Do Not Weep, which is set in the same universe but it is incorporated into BFH anyway. This is set a year after Endless Waltz, so about 2 and a half years since BFH.**

 **Bog standard trigger warnings apply if you have ever read any of my work. It covers depressive themes including suicide, self-injury, substance abuse, PTSD, graphic descriptions, and you know, the usual stuff that gets written about in the angst world. So basically if you can't deal with it then don't read it. It is rated M for a reason. Oh, and it might smell a bit citrusy. After all, it is 1+2. All other pairings in the AC universe still apply. And there is some slight Relena bashing [I took out the worst of it - I hate her so much].**

Dear Diary. Today I did not have to kill anyone. It was a good day. Scratch that, it was an _amazing_ day. In fact, I haven't had to kill anyone in almost two years now. Even with everything that happened last Christmas, I have not had to kill a single person. Perhaps what we did even make others realise that they could live in a world without war. Dare I say it, a world of total pacifism like Relena Peacecraft had always strived to achieve.

The blood on my hands has started to dry, and although it may have stained, some of it is beginning to flake off. Well, what I mean to say is their blood, the blood of all of my victims; the young and the old, and the soldiers and civilians alike. I am still coated in my own blood though, which occasionally spills from the cuts I continue to punish my body with. It is the only way that I manage to feel anything anymore. The deep red liquid follows in familiar paths along my skin, through the ravines of scar tissue that now look the Grand-Canyon itself after years upon years of this self-destructive behaviour. This peace though, however temporary it may seem, has calmed my soul somewhat. I am no longer surrounded by death or destruction. But what I do feel is the loneliness that has seeped into my bones. I miss my fellow Gundam pilots, my family. I miss Heero. That perfect soldier with eyes so blue that they looked like the ocean, so dark and deadly. Eyes that could be calm and joyous, but within just a second they would flitter to a glare that could have murdered.

You would have thought that after everything that Heero and I went through in those few weeks back during the war that we would be near inseparable. I desperately would have liked that to be true. But it wasn't. We loved each other, and even if we didn't say it aloud, our actions spoke volumes.

It was the night that he had found me sitting on the cliff after my assassination mission, not that long after the school trip 'incident'*, the same night I had finally told him that I loved him, despite only hours before I had sat in the cold with my gun pushed up against my chin hoping that I could provide an answer to the question that had been swimming in the darkness. Why not pull the trigger and end it all? And that why not had just happened to be Heero Yuy.

But the war had continued, regardless of our feelings to one another. We would still be there as much as we could be to comfort each other when the nightmares assaulted our dreams, where we could not escape them. And most nights we could be found wrapped in each other's arms, seeking solace and comfort in one another's presence. But Heero would still be there to hold me on the bathroom floor, as he did many nights, when he found me razor blade in hand, dragging the pristine edge across my flesh, slicing through it with the clean efficiency that I had somehow managed to perfect over the years. Silently understanding, he would tend to me as I released all the pent-up stress from within, hoping to feel anything other than the pain and guilt from all of my actions. His hands gentle and understanding as he would stitch and bandage me up. Not a hint of judgement across those eyes.

And I would be there for him, reminding him he was, in fact, a human being, no matter what 'training' and abuse that Doctor J or Deikim Barton had put him through. I would be there when he would have flashbacks to that little girl, or when he was no longer able to control the panic attacks that pounded against his mind like a hurricane.

The other pilots knew of our relationship, but I don't believe they ever cared. Even if it was nothing more than comfort and the fumbled kisses when we could steal a few moments together as the enemy bore down upon us, I relished in the fact that I had someone to protect, and someone to protect me in return.

When the war had ended though things had changed. I wished desperately that I could have clung to the friendship of all of the Gundam pilots, after all, they were now the closest thing to a family that I had. But they each had their own callings. We had stayed close at first. Living together briefly at an old familiar safe house, with all of us anticipating missions that would now never come. We were five confused and aimless boys wandering an unfamiliar world, looking for new meaning to our lives now that we had been thrown into a peace and freedom that we had fought so hard for, but never imagined that we would actually ever experience. What could we possibly do with our lives now that we were nothing more than discarded weaponry in a world of total pacifism? I think only Wufei ever truly understood that. And eventually, as months passed we began to drift apart, each of us desperately trying to find ways to cope with what had happened, and to figure out exactly how to finally begin living 'normal lives'. But what was normal to us? What others had called a war, we had merely called life, and it was all any of us had ever known.

The Mariemaia incident brought us all back together briefly, however, after that we only fractured further apart. Trowa had the circus and his sister. Quatre could return to his family, its business and the Maganac Corp. And even Wufei now had his role in the Preventers, as well as a blossoming relationship with Sally Po. Heero though… Right now I couldn't tell you where he was, and it shatters my heart to say that.

The only person that I clung to so strongly other than Solo throughout the years, and the only reason that I was even alive at all, I hadn't seen in a year now. He had been ripped so violently from me and it still feels like an open wound, raw and throbbing. Even now I can see him when I close my eyes. He's there lying in a hospital bed, recovering from the explosion of Wing Zero, covered in bruises and bandages. By all rights, the Doctors said he shouldn't have even lived through it. There were hospital machines plugged into him and they beeped quietly; monitoring statistics about him that I would never understand. But I knew the most important thing. He was alive, despite all odds, he was still here with me. He had smiled and squeezed my hand gently when I had asked how he was. "Well my eyebrows don't hurt," he had whispered, even though it obviously pained him to speak. And I had brushed his hair from his face, letting my fingers linger against the curve of his jaw, planting a chaste kiss upon his lips, thankful that Shinigami hadn't stolen my love from me. I had spent the night with my head resting against his lap, peacefully unaware that when I woke up that I would be alone, and it suddenly felt as though all of the happiness and joy had been sucked from the world. I wanted desperately to be angry at him. Leaving me without saying why or where he was going. But I just felt numb with shock. Not believing that he had even left me. Not even sure why he had even gone.

In the aftermath of it all, I had stayed in the little apartment on the L2 colony I had acquired with 'appropriated' OZ funds. And I hoped, and I had prayed that he would return to me, thinking that it was only a passing phase he was going through. After all, he needed me as much as I had ever needed him, and I convinced myself of that. I had never once even thought of leaving in case he came back and couldn't find me. But the days of waiting turned into weeks, and then the weeks turned into months. My life became a monotonous routine of waking up, wondering why I had ever woken up at all, and then reaching for the nearest bottle of alcohol or one of my razor blades. Sometimes, of course, it would be dependent on how I had slept and how vicious the nightmares were, but my skin and liver suffered as a result. And to this day I am not sure why I didn't end it all. Perhaps I was just sentimental and filled with a hope that hadn't died yet.

The days had been filled with the tinkering of computer programs out of boredom or searching through the internet trying to find any sign of my love, even if it was to just make sure that he was okay. This is Heero and he does have a tendency for overreacting to things. He may not have a Gundam, but there are still plenty of ways that he could self-detonate.

I had no need to work after years of hacking and putting money away. Originally used to buy ammunition, it now allowed me to live out my life in private, without having to deal with the outside world, after all, there was nothing for me out there, ever. My life was nothing without my Japanese boy, glaring at me, calling me a baka, kissing me gently, and holding onto me as the demons tore at my heart.

It was almost as though I had become a hermit. My health got worse, I hardly bathed or ate. I doubt that anyone would have recognised me. My eyes became hollow, they lost their mischievous spark. And my hair that was once my pride and joy would hang limply in a braid that I had neglected for weeks. I was nothing more than a shadow of the boy that I had been only a few years before. The hollow ache in my heart returned, and I forgot exactly what I was waiting for, or who I was waiting for. I would spend evenings sitting in the darkness, caressing my gun and reminiscing on that fateful night and what it would take to push me over the edge again and make me fire this bullet into my brain.

It was only after Hilde found me wandering the streets of L2 one night, drunk, and covered in my own blood that she had refused to let me return to the pit that I had dug for myself and she insisted that I went home with her. I had had little contact with anyone from my past. They would try to phone, and I wouldn't answer. I refused to give them any details of where I was living, so eventually, I had given them an e-mail address that I rarely checked, and I would spend nights staring at the screen trying to muster the right words to say to make it seem like everything was alright, that I was alright. But it would go unanswered as a call from a bottle of rum was far more appealing than trying to feign happiness, if only for a moment. The reason that I went out that night is still something that eludes me. I might have gone out for more alcohol. I might have gone out trying to get a cheap lay. Or maybe, just maybe I had gone out looking for him.

I don't remember much of those days. Hilde had been shocked at first. Of course, why wouldn't she have been? I practically reeked of depression and lost hope. And she had cared for me in that sisterly way that she always did, making sure that I got the help I had so obviously needed.

I wish I could say that I am stable now. I have my moments though. Those where I can pretend that I am nothing more than just your average 17-year-old teenager, and then there are some moments when the darkness feels like it is crushing me, suffocating me. Though I think that anyone who had seen the things that we had seen, or done the things that we had done during the war would be scared as much as we were. But somehow at least, for now, I have some sort of control on my life again. I help Hilde run her scrap metal business dismantling the Mobile Suits and Dolls left over from that fateful battle of Christmas Eve. And it is satisfying to be actually taking them apart with my hands rather than melting them down with a slash of Deathscythe's beam scythe. It feels so final like I am actually able to get some sort of closure from it all. I'm removing weapons from the world so that they can never be used again. But there is still an empty hole in my heart that has never been filled no matter how much I try.

I'm seeing a therapist now too, she specialises in the mental health of soldiers. I swore I never would see a shrink, but she is good, and I am beginning to open up about the horrors that I have seen, that I have done, and I am learning to deal with it all in a 'healthier' way, albeit with the help of a cocktail of medication including tranquilisers, mood stabilisers, and sleeping tablets. But there are still times where Hilde would come into the bathroom to find me passed out in a puddle of my own tears, blood, and vomit, and then have to help me bandage myself up. A job that I was so used to Heero doing that it pained me to have her touch me. She should never have had to deal with this, deal with me. I have also been diagnosed with a plethora of psychological conditions ranging from post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, alcohol dependency, and borderline personality disorder. But no one has been able to cure the one problem that hurts the most - the heartbreak from being abandoned.

And it was on her advice that I attended this year's Christmas Eve war memorial party. And although I didn't want to go, apparently being surrounded by people desperate to hold onto the peace that I had helped to create, seeing other soldiers that had also suffered, and a chance to see the other Gundam pilots that I had so actively avoided in the past would be a form of therapy in itself.

So here I was leaning against a wall on the outskirts of the crowd sipping a double Jack Daniels and Coke, letting the alcohol burn down my throat and send pleasant soothing waves throughout my body. I'm not quite sure what I expected from this. A plethora of political dignitaries, all in various garbs that reminded me of what the Romerfeller Foundation would wear, gathered to discuss methods of maintaining peace. There were some Preventer agents too, and a few soldiers particularly recognised for their service to any one of the various factions involved in the war. They mingled in a room decked out for Christmas cheer when they really should have been a sombre event. Really they should have have been remembering the dead.

Even Relena was here, though I tried desperately to avoid her. We had never gotten on particularly well. Her dependence on Heero, on his strength, and everything that he and Wing represented always repulsed me, even before we became what you would call an item. She never knew about her prince in shining armour and me though. I'm not sure if that would have even changed anything, she would still have chased after him. Probably even more desperate to steal him from me and keep him for her own. But things had changed, and I couldn't help but wonder if she knew where he was now, and I was too afraid to even speak his name.

I took another sip of my drink and surveyed the crowd, surprised that there were people, previously enemies, laughing and smiling together, like nothing had ever happened. But somehow, even though I could have been considered one of them, I felt completely alone in the sea of people. I hoped that dressing in black would help me blend into the shadows and be unnoticed like it had so many times in the war but there had still been people who had attempted to make small talk with me, like Lady Une. I shrugged her off and she went back to entertaining some dignitary, I neither knew the name of nor cared about. I had never known her particularly well, but working as a Preventer suited her well. And somehow under her guidance the Earth Sphere and the Space Colonies had remained at peace.

It was when I went up for another drink that I finally had a chance to talk to Quatre. We'd caught each other eyes the moment we got here, but every time we thought we had had a chance to talk, there had been another introduction to be made: 'Oh Mister Winner, you must meet such and such a person' or 'Mister Winner, we're all so happy that you could come'. I doubt there was anyone there that even knew my name. And the aura that I had been giving off all night must have felt like poison. /Damn I wish this drink was poison/. Go away voice, I am not in the mood for you. I fumbled in my pocket pulling out a small white prescription bottle filled with one of the many drugs I was given to take when I felt anxious. And I had started taking them whenever I could feel that voice breaking through the wall that I had worked so hard to put in place. And even I had to admit it was probably only these drugs keeping it at bay by now.

Quatre eyed me suspiciously, as I shook out two tablets and washed them down with the fresh drink that the bar staff had placed before me. "You too?" He asked quietly as he came to stand beside me. There used to be so much joy and curiosity in those beautiful blue eyes of his, but this isn't the boy I remembered, this boy was broken. He may have been all smiles on the outside, perfect suit and hair, wealth, and an entourage of servants that he didn't want or need, but his eyes no longer smiled when he did. Even in war, there are no unwounded soldiers I thought. Even if they are not broken on the outside, they are shattered on the inside.

I nodded, "Me too". I hate to think what medication that doctors would pump in the blonde Arabic's veins just to keeping outwardly functioning as well as he appeared to be.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? I have really missed you, you know." He rested a hand on my arm, making me look into his eyes. No doubt he could feel the bandages under my shit from the stress-induced cutting session that I had had last night but he didn't ask about it. That space heart of his always seemed to understand. And he always managed to show it with his actions, acutely aware of the effect even the smallest word would have on the psyche of the fallen.

"Yea, too long," I gave him a sad smile which he returned with one of his own. "How have you been?"

"Busy. I'm running my father's business now but it is good to be busy. It's a good distraction. Though sometimes, I dunno, I wish that I could just be a kid for a day, do you know what I mean? I never really got the chance to experience what that was like," he sighed wistfully.

"We stopped being kids the day they sent us down here to die," I whispered absent minded looking away from him into the distance, watching the people before me as they laughed and danced together. It all seemed so surreal. His hand tightened over my arm, but there was never any need to say much between us about what happened in the time that we spent on Earth. He had felt it far deeper than he had ever let on, and I suppose by now all of the pretending to be happy for the sake of others was finally beginning to wear him down. "Sorry. This is supposed to be a party. Guess I'm just gloomy these days."

"I understand Duo… Have you seen much of the others?"

"No," I replied and took another mouthful of my drink, relieved that the mixture of drugs and alcohol was beginning to take effect. "I've been living on L2 and working with Hilde. I should have visited Trowa when the circus came round, but I dunno… didn't want to bring up bad memories I guess. I haven't seen Fei either, but I know he's around somewhere tonight, probably doing security checks or something. Gotta keep the princess safe now, that's his job."

"What about Heero?"

I could almost feel my heart skip a beat when I heard that name. I'd refused to say it out loud, and even Hilde and my therapist had avoided saying it around me. My cheeks flushed and I couldn't help but cling to the glass in my hand, thankful that it was something to hold onto so that he couldn't see my trembling hands. I am way too sober for this I thought.

"What- what about him?" I stuttered. Damn it, I should have changed the subject.

He pursed his lips together in a thin line and looked away from me. "Nothing." /Something./ He was innocent, well he used to be, and lying did not suit him. The honest boy had never had much practice at it either, and as such he was terrible at it. My mind raced… Had he had contact with Heero when I had had none? Had he at least the smallest idea what was going on with him? Was he at least alright?

"Quatre… What has happened to Heero?" Why would I even want to know, I thought. Why would I even want to care after all that he put me through? I needed to get on with what my life was now, rather than dwelling on the past.

"I just thought you might have seen him that's all. I saw him very briefly before." And that's when I felt my heart shatter.

"Before when Quatre?" I tried to hide the desperation in my voice but I could feel my heart racing. My stomach began to take painful lurches from side to side, and I battled to keep its contents down.

"You didn't know? He's here. Or at least he was. He said he was going to talk to you and I haven't seen him leave." The blonde obviously distressed by what he felt clung onto me, trying desperately to stop me running to find him. I downed my drink and went to pull him away from him but his hold held me firm.

"Let me go Quat, I need to find him." I had to. I didn't believe he was real anymore. My vision began to blur at the edges and my breath started to quicken. I could feel myself being thrown into an anxiety attack that the drugs had not had enough time to dull.

"Please Duo. You need to know…" I span, surprised that I managed to stay standing, to look directly into those pained and sad eyes. "Heero, he's not, he's not the same as he used to be. He's changed."

 *** Long story short for those that didn't read BFH – Duo destroys an OZ base which had a school trip visiting. 10 children die. And Duo has a complete psychotic episode.**

 **Okay, so this is chapter 1. It was going to be a stupidly long single chapter. But I felt as though I got to the point where I was considering a Heero POV in the next chapter and was umming and ahhing about it too much so I decided to leave it here. Though it has taken longer than I thought it would to write this. Well about a week, when usually I pop around 2000 words out a day. But this felt so special and heartbreaking that I did not want to rush it. So yea, I pretty much have the whole of the summer to write, ramble, look for jobs, and deal with my mental health which is getting worse every single day, so I am sure that I could probably fit the next chapter of this in too.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I actually did a lot of thinking about where I wanted this story to go. And believe it or not for the first time ever I am going to write in Heero's POV, which is going to be a total experiment and struggle for me. It has involved writing pages upon pages of notes, diagrams, and flowcharts. My biggest struggle is Heero will be completely out of character, it is totally understandable considering what he has been through, so hopefully, I won't mess this up too much. I'd love a review on this if you have the time.**

 **Warnings for this chapter cover all of the previous but now add OCD, Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT), and Rape. It is probably worth reading the side story that goes with this called Weapon's Don't Weep, as it covers flashbacks to his training.**

 **Also ~ Black Alpha… That's the name J used with him before giving him the name Heero Yuy.**

Did I regret leaving him? Of course, I did. And I hated myself for it.

I loved that amethyst eyed idiot with every ounce of my being. After all, he was the only person that had ever managed to pull me from the depths of my depression. And he was the only one that had ever managed to soothe and calm me after one of the many night terrors that would plague my dreams. I would wake up screaming, or not recognising him, but somehow he had always managed to pull me into his strong warm arms to hold me and help me fight the demons. But seeing him there, sleeping peacefully beside me as I lay in that hospital bed, all I could think of was how I needed to get away from him. It felt as though my heart was breaking in two. Every inch of my body ached, a multitude of cuts and bruises. But even through all of the pain and suffering, my mind was crystal clear and I knew what I needed to do.

In the last year since the Christmas Eve battle, I had genuinely begun to get over the past. I finally had someone to live for rather than to die for. But this week, with everything that had happened, I had started to return to my old, dare I say, robotic ways. And I couldn't stand it. Piloting Wing Zero again, after finally getting the closure I needed by joining the others in sending our Gundams into the Sun, was a horrific shock to the system. And it all felt so raw, like a wound that has been picked open again and again. It felt like I was being re-programmed again by Doctor J and that was just a pain that I don't think I could go through again.

The constant flashbacks of seeing that little girl clawed at my soul, and in the end, not even Duo could help me. What was comfort turned to fear as I was terrified of hurting him, of killing him. And it felt as though I was drowning with lead weights tied around my ankles, the world getting darker around me. And it made me realise just how much of a monster I truly was. After all, I was nothing more than a weapon in this war. But without a war to be used in, what was I anymore? I had lost my purpose. My mind raced with a million thoughts a minute trying to calculate exactly what my future would hold. And for once I was grateful for my training. My heart rate stayed steady, betraying the torment of feelings within me, and so alarms didn't come from the hospital machinery to wake my love up.

Looking back on it, I understand now, that in my self-pitying and anxious state, not a single outcome had held a happy future which had included Duo. I had professed to love him, but could not see beyond my own guilt and suffering rather than even once thinking of him. Every scenario that my mind conjured contained death and suffering caused by a soldier that had been perfectly conditioned to fight and nothing else. A soldier that had been perfectly conditioned to destroy and kill. To kill all those around him and to kill those that he loved. There must have been a way to reverse this I had desperately thought. I couldn't face a world where I couldn't change what I had become. I had said before that I needed Duo by my side to help me see a future after all of this, but maybe what I needed first was to be fixed. And that was the path I set myself on, even if I destroyed myself in the process.

I truly believed at that time that I couldn't be happy, that we couldn't be happy together until I was fixed and there was only one way that I would be able to do it, even if it meant being apart from Duo. It would be better for him. I wouldn't be around to hurt him or cause him sadness. I can see now though, how leaving him was the worst thing that I possibly could have done. But at the time I had done it anyway. Guilt and stress can fog the mind and make a person do horrible things.

I had slowly shifted my weight around, careful not to wake the sleeping boy before me, and then slipped out of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cold tiled floor silently. I quickly switched the monitors off and then proceeded to detached myself from the sensors, thankful that I had no significant body hair which would have added to the pain of removing the pads. I was desensitised to pain, at least physical pain, through years of training. It was nothing more than a distraction that would cause me to slow down. The closest I had ever come to feeling what pain truly felt like was the day that I self-detonated after OZ had targeted the colony, and that had definitely hurt.

I didn't really have a plan at that point as to what I would do or where I would go, but after putting my boots on I had left a gentle kiss on my loves forehead and then I had left, my fingers lingering longer than they should have against his pale angelic face. And then I wouldn't see him again for what would become nearly a full year.

And in that year a lot happened. At first, I had wandered a snow-covered Earth and marvelled at how people, civilian and soldier alike, had come together over the Christmas period. Ignoring colour, creed, or faction, they had celebrated peace together. Something that I had never truly experienced and it made me feel jealous.

Then the New Year came, something I have also never paid much attention to. But this year the sounds of the fireworks around me crashed around me like bullets from guns, deafening and frightening me. Without my Gundam or a weapon in my hand, I was helpless. And so I ran with panic filling my soul, threatening to escape as tears. It had truly felt as though I was in the raging battle. I was racing past Mobile Suits and Dolls as they exploded around me. I couldn't control myself. And for the first time in my life, I understood what fear was. This is how the soldier feels as a Gundam appears at their radar and expects death. This is how the civilian feels as they are evacuated because a Gundam is in the area and they expect to become homeless. And this is how a little girl and her dog feels as the military base next to her home bursts into flames in the middle of the night, as they hear the explosions coming closer and closer, as something crashes into the building, sending them to their death. My lungs and legs burned from the effort. They carried me for miles until they gave out, and in the end, I had no idea where I was or how I even got there.

And this wasn't the only time that it happened. Afterwards, any loud noises would trigger the panic rise, and I couldn't control it. It could be as simple as a car backfiring on the street, or broken crockery in a cafe. Each noise would lead to the uncontrollable reactions that coursed through me. And it was only when my body gave up that I would fall into unconsciousness to awaken confused and startled with only hazy memories of what happened and a feeling of dread and guilt.

So returning to L1, to the home of all of my problems, was probably the worst thing that I could have ever done. The military base was pretty much destroyed by that point. Parts of it shut down to atmosphere leakage when J had fired the spare buster rifle at OZ when they had tried to capture him. And the other rooms had been all cleared out so efficiently and thoroughly that there was little evidence left that it had ever been part of Operation Meteor. The rooms betrayed nothing of their purpose now other than for the storage of various machinery that kept the colony functioning. I walked silently through the rooms and corridors, letting the memories assault me. Each touch or noise a trigger for a vivid and painful flashback.

You wouldn't have been able to tell that the large central room in the facility had been the birthplace of my Gundam. I had stood below it every day, memorising each minute detail, and I had learned to accept it as an extension of my own being. But that was before I had learned what we were truly capable of together, just how much death and destruction that we could rain on to the Alliance, on to OZ, and on to the innocent. The coldness of it all brought goosebumps to my skin but I ignored them. The place was always cold, and I had learned to accept it from the day that I was brought here.

On that day I had thought that I had finally gotten a purpose that Odin would have been proud of. I would be fighting for the oppressed and against the evil that was in the world. But as I began to understand the Barton Foundation more deeply, I suddenly realised what I was really being trained to do. The accidental death of civilians was of no importance for them. Perhaps they might have been seen as necessary deaths for peace in someone's eyes, but in reality, they had been sacrificed for nothing more than the financial gain of the corrupt, and it made me sick to my stomach. I was sent to replace the Alliance and OZ with a different evil dictator. And when I realised this I tried to rebel. I wanted no part in this heinous act.

And that was when it was decided, rather than trying to re-train the right person in the piloting of my Wing Gundam, that it would be quicker and easier to mould my mind via experimental means. This was a time when people had no qualms about the damage that they were inflicting on the body or the psyche. They could do whatever they wanted to, to this frightened and vulnerable young boy. No, I was not a boy in their eyes. I was nothing more than another weapon that needed to be maintained and so that the Gundam could cause maximum devastation.

What they did to me still haunts me to this day. I was beaten, starved, experimented on and raped, until I no longer felt anything *. They tried to erase my humanity, and it was what had created this broken husk of a 17-year-old boy so many years later. Being beaten and starved was something I could deal with. I blocked out the pain, or the feeling of my stomach turning.

But the rapes... I got used to them eventually. It had become so regular that I learned to expect and anticipate when they would happen. Doctor J or Dekim did nothing to protect me, even though they knew that it happened. To this day I would have taken great satisfaction in slowly murdering them, but I had no idea where those soldiers were now, though I hoped that they had died slow and painful deaths in the war. My skin still held scars from their ministrations. They liked to use their nails as much as their fists. And these scars were constant reminders of a time when I was weak and unable to fight back, which only made me want to get stronger so that I could get my revenge. It was the only thing keeping me alive at the time.

And this desire for strength only became stronger as an effect of the re-programming 'treatments'. Experimental at the time, they involved the systematic electroshocking of my brain until I could feel nothing, at times say nothing, and eventually do nothing other than what was demanded of me. This had been by far the most painful experience of my life until self-detonating. But I somehow had a survival mechanism and a body that would rapidly heal which unfortunately had kept me alive.

Back then I wished that I had died. That the electroconvulsive therapy would irreparably fry my brain, or that those soldiers would get so carried away with themselves that they would take it too far, and I would die. But I'm not sure why I never managed to take my own life then. Perhaps the conditioning took effect too quickly to let me. Suicide just wasn't in my mission parameters. Or maybe just maybe I had just a slither of hope left in me, and thought that all of this might just be worth it if, in the end, I managed to create peace and save people's lives. I would have given my life to bring that little girl back.

As I sat on the floor in the darkness of what was once my bedroom, or rather my cell, I studied the gun that I had brought with me. I had expected to find some sort of resistance here, but it was as empty as my soul. There was nothing left here but painful memories that I could not erase. How could I ever expect to be fixed if there was no one left that could reverse the damage that I had happened to me? Surely there must have been someone? Someone who knew exactly what they did or what drugs that they had pumped through my veins? But there was no one and I was all alone. I had even lost Duo.

The gun reminded me of my braided love. How that night I had knocked the gun out of his hands when he had tried to commit suicide after the assassination mission. I had never really understood until now, just how much he was suffering. And I felt another pang of guilt that I had caused him to keep living through an unbearable pain, if only so I could keep him in my life longer. I had sworn to him that I would protect him. From the demons inside his mind and memories, and the ones that attacked him on the battlefield. Perhaps this was justification for my actions. I could have been protecting him from himself, but why then had I left him if I had sworn I would not.

The gun felt heavy with its full clip. Unlike Duo with his single bullet, I had not come here this day to contemplate taking my own life but here I was. Perhaps there was still a survival mechanism still functioning after all of these years. Or maybe I was just afraid; afraid of the pain, afraid of death and meeting all those whom I had killed on the other side. Or maybe I was afraid of what my life had turned into, now that I had abandoned and failed my mission to protect my love. The boy with eyes the same shade of amethyst that would sparkle with mischief, with hair that would fall down his hair like an oil slick when he had gotten out of the shower.

Even if I had hurt him too much for him to ever take me back, I thought, I would still be there to protect him. I had accepted that mission and would not fail it. I had been trained to always see a mission to completion and Duo _was_ my mission. I holstered my gun and began to form a plan. By this point, I had known that I was suffering psychological fallout from everything that happened. The fact that I had nearly shot myself was evidence of that. So how could someone so damaged as me make a difference? I did not know, but I had been trained to see past that and still give my all to the mission, even if it was going to be the most difficult yet. But the idea of seeing my love caused my stomach to lurch painfully, I began to sweat and my heart raced.

At first, I had just wanted to see him. I needed to know that he was alright but the nervousness turned to anxiety, which could lead to me having a panic attack in the toilet cubicle of some nameless cafe on the L2 colony as I searched for him. At first, I had suspected that he might have returned to the small apartment that we had rented together after the war had ended, but I had returned to a flat that contained new residents with no idea where the original occupant had gone. With only a comment that the place had been returned filled with empty alcohol bottles, razor blades, and blood.

I could feel my soul shatter; I should never have left him. The pain I felt within was indescribable, whether it was from the programming punishing me for failing my mission, or the realisation that I might have actually lost the one person in this universe that might have been holding my life together. I looked everywhere I could hoping that he had merely covered his tracks and wanted nothing more than a quiet post-war life but one thought raced through my mind. I eventually checked the mortuary and when I failed to find his name I was certain that I had lost him forever.

I tried everything I could to take away the pain. Drugs and alcohol would help for a while, but my body's quick metabolism would destroy whatever numbness they would create, and brought me back to reality like a sharp slap in the face. So I took more, trying my hardest to break down the self-defence mechanism in my mind. I would see myself doing things that I would be unable to stop like I was watching some blurred black and white movie, where the star was a reckless young teenager with a death wish, but something always happened to prevent his death. The man I tried to fight would be too drunk to land a punch on me even when I stood before him begging to feel anything other than this loneliness in my heart. Or the truck on the road would swerve out of the way at the last second not hitting me. Or a familiar face covered in long chestnut bangs would find me lying in a park near a circus, reminiscing on missions failed in the past when I had killed pacifist dignitaries. I had tried to atone for my sins then, but the punishment of living in suffering felt apt for all of the evil I had ever done.

I hadn't wanted to go with Trowa at first. He reminded me too much of painful memories from when we were all together during the war. But in my drunkenness, I was in no fit state to argue and I had followed him back to his trailer in the circus compound, and he had thrust a steaming mug of coffee into my quivering hands.

It had nearly been a year since I had seen him, a year since I had seen Duo, and he had filled out well. Although there was still a haunted expression across his face and dark circles around his eyes, he had grown, in height and maturity. I found myself being jealous of the life that he led now. But our time together had taught me that looks can always be misleading.

"The nights are the worst," he said, staring into his own mug of coffee. "There's no real way to hide from my memories there. Somehow I found drugs that could keep me awake for days, well at least until my body gave in and I had to be hospitalised… In just a few months since the last battle, I changed. I would do anything to forget... To escape... I needed the Modafinil ** to keep me awake. Like I did back when I was a mercenary, and we needed to stay awake for days to complete our missions. But I found myself upping the dosage to dangerous levels. The side effects only made what I was feeling worse. The stress on my body made me see what I was trying to escape in my waking vision. When I was hospitalised for the second time, Catharine made sure that I saw a therapist. In reality, I have only changed one drug for a carefully monitored cocktail of others."

"I guess we fight our demons in different ways," I whispered. My hands were shaking from alcohol withdrawal, and I desperately needed something, anything to take the edge of the conversation that I wished we weren't having.

"But that's my point, I didn't fight them. I ran from them. Just like you are doing…"

I shot him a glare, but years of seeing such a stern expression on my face had only desensitised him to the effect I was trying to induce. "I'm not running from anything," I snarled. Acutely aware of how much of an asshole I was being to a friend that was only trying to help me.

"Listen Heero, I don't know much about your past, but I realise that just like mine it was _not_ a happy one," he looked into my eyes, but I could only turn away in embarrassment. A heat flushing over my cheeks that I wished he would never notice. "But I have seen you happy. The world was crashing down around the five of us. But you finally found someone to protect, someone to love, and you were happy. And I admit I was jealous, but I was also glad that you had found happiness regardless of everything that was happening. It pains me to see you like this Heero it really does. You were always the best of us, the one that was supposed to lead us."

I sighed, allowing the tiredness and stress to finally show across my face. There were tears that threatened to fall but I still found myself trying to hold them back.

"I might not have seen him," Trowa said sadly as he put his coffee mug down on the table and walked over to me. Treating me like one of his caged performing animals. "But I have talked to Quatre, and I know that he had managed to get Duo to attend this Christmas memorial event happening soon. You should go and see him." A gentle hand rested on my shoulder and found myself leaning into it.

I should have been thrilled hearing that my love was still alive after thinking for so long that I had lost him. But all I could think about was how much better it would be if I went nowhere near him. "I'd destroy him," I heard myself whisper. And I brushed at my eyes with the back of my hands, hoping that Trowa had not noticed the tears that were beginning to slowly slide down my cheeks from bloodshot eyes.

"You know what?" The boy dropped to his knees in front of me, a cheeky smile curled on his lips. "Knowing Maxwell, I bet he would totally be into that."

I smiled back at him. And for the first time in my life, I clung desperately to the boy before me as he let me cry against his chest.

* **… I hate the idea of this happening to him, I really do. But over the years, I have totally come to believe that it could have happened. Just like it might have happened to Duo while he was on the streets of L2. I cover this idea more in the Weapons don't weep side story / inside BFH.**

 **** At first I was going to use a well-known recreational drug but a friend directed to me to this drug the UK military use to help keep its soldiers awake. It's completely legal and used for helping narcolepsy. So Trowa might have been exposed to it as a merc and it would have been far easier for a 16/17-year-old to get a hold of, especially if they hacked a hospital system and got them to prescribe it. It is also far less damaging over a long time instead of something like speed or cocaine.**

 **Damn, that was a labour of love. I'm gonna say that took 7 straight uninterrupted hours to write the first draft. And that was the hardest thing I have ever had to write. I mean, I just wanted to cuddle Heero the whole way through. To hold him, protect him, and tell him everything was going to be alright. I've also never written anything from Heero's POV, so mixing that with the emotion, stress, and programming, it was definitely a challenge. I was also going to finish this with Duo finding him at the party, but I think to stay in touch with the other chapter, and BFH I really should switch back to Duo's POV. I'm not exactly sure what is going to happen in that. But my plan in my notebook says 'makeup sex at a hotel maybe…'**


	3. Chapter 3

**The plan for this chapter has been sitting in my note book for… at least a few months, I haven't had the chance or motivation to write it but here you go… No warnings really for this chapter.**

~Duo POV~

My heart raced painfully, I felt it pound through every inch of my being. The idea of Heero being somewhere nearby was enough to send me into shock more than an enemy mobile suit descending on me with the intention of taking my life. Though the nausea that it caused was nothing compared to the feeling within my soul. Words cannot describe it. It was like my whole being was thrown into a storm. I was searching frantically for a life preserver to keep myself from drowning. The alcohol had begun to mix with my medication, and it caused the room to spin. The people had begun to take on the shapes of blurry shadow bodies, reminding me of the ghosts of all whom I had killed. Dammit, I need to get out of here, I thought as I pushed through the people before me to an exit, uncaring of their gazes or suspicion. The force of their bodies against the bandages wrapped around my arms was comforting, and somehow it grounded me. I was real; everything that was happening wasn't just an illusion. Faintly, as though his voice was battling against the crashing waves of the ocean, I think I heard Quatre call for me. But there was a chance that Heero was here, and I couldn't let it slip through my fingers.

The fresh icy December air burned my lungs as I hyperventilated. And the coldness of the metal bannister numbed my skin as I clung desperately to it to keep myself standing. The panic swept over me. I thought of taking more of my medication but the drunken haze that was flowing through my system made me decide against it. How did I always end up like this? I was still a mess, regardless of medication or therapy. I was still that scared little boy constantly fighting for survival.

I tried to calm my breathing, focusing on the muted puffs of visible breath that escaped before my eyes. I had ended up in the grounds that surrounded the embassy. The manicured gardens frosted and peaceful were illuminated by the light coming from the memorial within the building behind me. The people inside glinted across the light creating ethereal looking shadows against the crystal-covered foliage. From out here, the music played seemed so far away, like a distant memory. The centrepiece of the garden was a fountain which trickled gently, with ghostly cherubs which released their water to the pool before them. They were lit from beneath with lights that made them glow against the darkness. Although much of the garden was bathed in the winter's darkness, the fountain's light was enough to reveal the benches situated around the fountain. And on one of those benches was a boy with a familiar mop of messy brown hair.

I felt my heart skip a beat, and my body moved on its own, my feet guiding me towards the fountain, and the boy that sat near it. I chewed my lip nervously. What was I doing? I had finally begun to move on with my life, and now here was the cause of all the pain and suffering I had endured for the last year. Eventually, I stood before him, unsure of what to say or do. I had imagined this for so long but now he was here, I couldn't think of a single word to say to him. Was I angry he had left or was I relieved he was here and at least alive? My stomach lurched painfully. But I think what I felt the most was pity. I had somehow managed to regain some semblance of my life with the help of Hilde and my therapist, but here he was. I could only describe him as looking defeated. Whether it was by the war or by the emotional turmoil it had left him in, just like it had affected all of us Gundam pilots.

His cobalt eyes, downcast, were misted over with what must have been a mixture of memories and alcohol, as beside him on the bench lay an empty bottle of vodka. They were hidden by a mop of hair that was a mess from not being taken care of instead of the youthful rebellious nature it had once held. But he was thin. He had always been thin, but there had been a muscular nature to it. He could look young and sweet and innocent at times, yet still had the capacity to bend mental effortlessly. But now the gauntness his features held only made him look ill.

I knelt before him, ignoring the cold that seeped through my clothes from the concrete beneath. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed me. Gone were his cat-like reflects of the perfect soldier. I reached out and placed a hand on his knee, more for reassurance that he was there and that I wasn't hallucinating, rather than supporting him. He blinked slowly, finally meeting my gaze with eyes tinted with sadness.

Before I knew what I was doing my hand had balled into a fist and had slammed into his cheek. His head rocking back slightly with the force. Tears burned at the edges of my vision. Unexpected anger had welled up inside me. We promised we would protect and help each other through everything and yet he had left me and became… this.

He let his face fall again, hiding behind his eyes, as he brought up a hand to rub at the mark my fist had left upon his face. "I deserved that," he whispered quietly.

"Damn right you did Heero!" I finally let the tears that had been threatening to fall go. They burned down my skin across my cheeks. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?" I screamed at him, and I resisted the urge to punch him again. To keep punching him, to release all of this anger, hurt, and pain. To let him know how I felt, but what good would that do? But still, I needed to feel anything other than what I was feeling right now.

"I'm sorry…" He still refused to meet my eyes.

"You're sorry!?" I shot up from the floor in anger, not trusting myself to be close to him. I wanted to fall into his embrace but something, perhaps pride, refused to let me. My hands clenched, and my fingernails left bloody crescent moons in my palms. "You abandon me for a year, no explanation, no contact, no anything, and all you can say is you are sorry!" I almost screamed at him again. My voice rippled with pain and the sadness that I had kept locked inside all of this time. But all he did was wrap his hands around his head, his elbows now resting upon his knees. "I didn't even know if you were dead or alive Heero! Do you have any idea what that feels like? What it feels like to have the most important thing, the one thing that is keeping you alive torn from you…"

I stood my ground, focusing on the anger to stop myself from shaking, as he eventually lifted his head, and for his eyes to meet mine. "I'm here now…" he whispered.

"Did you ever love me?" I cuffed at the tears now streaming from my eyes.

"You know I do…"

My heart broke at his words. I do. He still loves me even after all this time. But how could he? He had a funny way of expressing it if love meant abandonment to him. I let the sadness of his eyes and voice wash over me but my stubbornness refused to let me go to him. I wanted to cling to him. I wanted to hold onto him so tightly this time that he could never leave. In all this time I had thought I had lost him for good, yet here he was. But I still needed to know… "Then why did you leave me…"

"You wouldn't understand…"

I sighed, allowing myself to fall to the floor in front of him. Typical, I thought, he's keeping secrets from me. Always trying to protect me but in reality, doing more harm than good. "Try me…"

But he refused to answer. And so I brought up a hand and brushed the hair from his face. Letting my fingers linger against the mark that I had left on his skin with my punch. "Okay then… let me ask you this…" I swallowed nervously, unsure of whether I really wanted to know the answer. "Why did you come back?"

His hand caught mine, it was just as cold. "A long time ago I made a promise…" He brought his eyes to meet mine again, and this time I could see the tears that he was refusing to let fall gather at the edges of his vision. "I made a promise that I would always protect you, and I failed you Duo."

I finally fell into his arms, letting myself cling to him like a small child to its mother. "You didn't fail Heero," I whispered against his neck, comforted by his familiar smell and skin.

"But I did. I got caught up in my own despair and memories, that I was so afraid of hurting you. I couldn't stay around you to watch my selfishness consume the both of us. You deserve so much more…" He brought his own hand up to wrap against my body pulling me hard into his embrace. "I don't know what to do anymore… I don't even know who I am…"

I pulled away from him slightly, bringing up both of my chilled hands to cup his chin, guiding his lips to mine for a slow and gentle kiss. "I know who you are. You're Heero Yuy. You're the same boy that I fell in love with all those years ago." And I couldn't help but smirk. "You're the same complete ass hole who left me alone in that hospital," I said playfully.

"Duo… I…" I silenced him again with another kiss. Quatre was right, he had changed. There was no longer boy who was a soldier before me, but now that was just a broken man. A shell of the person he was. But he was here. He was in my arms and I refused to let him go this time.

I smiled sadly, moving a finger across his lips to silence him. Snow had begun to fall around us, flakes landing in our hair and melting. "It doesn't matter Heero…" I gently thumbed at a flake that had landed on his cheek. "How drunk are you 'Ro?" His nickname falling from my own lips as my own soul started to thaw in his presence. I saw his lips attempt to twitch into a smile at the name.

"I am moderately functional," he replied.

I rolled my eyes at that. That was more like the Heero that I knew. "Close enough. Listen, I would much prefer to continue this conversation somewhere else. You know, somewhere warm. I have a hotel room nearby, we could walk to it."

He nodded curtly, and I began to stand up but one of his hands shot out to grab hold of the sleeve of my top. "Duo…"

The snow was falling more heavily now, and the wind had picked up enough to send shivers through me with every gust. "Yea."

"I'm sorry…"

 **I know it's a short one, and it has been a while since the last update but I just had to tell you. My emotional gushing fangirlness of adorable squishiness and crying at every moment took over me when I wrote this. And you know what; I hope that the fangirl/boy in you had a lot of fun too. I'm hoping to get another chapter written by the end of the week too as I have some time off.**


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